Johns Secret
by JohnlockedMystradelover
Summary: Sherlock finds out johns secret and doesnt react well. John becomes Mycrofts best experiment yet after all who wouldnt take advantage of a real life vampire? Rated for abuse . NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**So Im trying my hand at some Vamplock, hope you like it!**

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Sherlock and John have been dating for 5 months now, it had been hard on both of them at the start. Sherlock being 'asexual' and John being 'straight' but after a month or so they sorted those issues…Now their relationship is going strong, stronger than most outside of the pair would think. But there was one massive problem, John had a secret, not just a little 'oh I forgot the milk' secret. A big one. A massive one. In Johns time in Afghanistan John had often had night shifts, after all there were injured soldiers at all times of the day and night. One night John had just finished his night shift and was on his way back to camp, it was around 2am.

_"See ya Jimmy" John smiles and waves a goodbye to his pal, strapping his bag onto his back and making his way out of the medic tent. He gives a placid yawn and starts the short journey back to camp. It had been an 'ok' night. They had managed to save 2/3 of the badly injured soldiers, losing men always weighed on Johns mind. On the way back John walks through a stretch of woods, they were often used for practicing surprise attacks. His head is bowed, watching his footsteps as he carries on along the dirt path, a rustling comes from one of the trees which causes him to look up. John frowns as he sees nothing but carries on walking, putting the noise down to the wind. The rustling comes again but this time more stated and he slows down, looking around, a smile suddenly breaking onto his face, "Come on guys, I know it's you" He says in an amused tone. No reply comes and John rolls his eyes carrying on walking. Numpties. Just as John is about to leave the stretch of woods something…No someone grabs his backpack, pulling him into the woods, John lets out a startled noise and grabs the handgun out of the back of his trousers as the person spins him round and pushes him against a tree, pinning him there, the force of the attack knocking the gun out of Johns hand as he gives a winded noise. "Oh looky a soldier…Mmm, not only a soldier a doctor too" Comes the sadistic voice of Johns attacker, it sounds almost pondering but the man is keeping his face in the darkness of the winters night. "Who the hell are you" John says in a strong tone, even in his situation keeping a steady voice. The attacker gives a dark chuckle and brings his face into the light for John to see, "What would you think, doctor?" The man says in a husky tone. John swallows as he looks up at the taller man, his eyes are swimming in a deep scarlet color and his skin is so…So damn pale. John knew when he signed up for the army that there was of course a chance he wouldn't return, quite a large one actually, but he never thought this would be the way, a single attack on his way back from his shift. No. John struggles, tying to pull his hands back out of the lanky mans grip but he's too strong. This tall, thin, ill-looking man was too strong for John, an army doctor... A wicked smile gracing his features, he drops his head to Johns neck taking a deep breath, "Oh god you do smell delicious" He purrs out. Johns struggling picks up again and he tries to kick out, only to have the other man pin his knees against his own. What the fuck is this man doing? John thinks as his comment is issued, "What the fuck are you doing?" The blonde demands. The man pulls his face away and John notices his red pupils have dilated to take up most of his eyes now, "Let me show you" The man spits out dangerously, flashing a pair of pearly white…Fangs? FANGS?! "No, no please stop" John stutters, his strong defense breaking for the first time into pure panic at the sight of the fangs. John opens his mouth to shout, scream for help but just before he does a strong hand is thrust over his mouth and his head is shoved sharply to the side, exposing Johns beautiful, sensitive neck to The vampire. The vampire grins devilishly as Johns pulse hikes, it now pumping through his own cold body. John tries to break free but every part of the vampire is holding him there, pinning him painfully against the sturdy tree. The vampire plunges his teeth into Johns jugular and he screams as the blinding pain shoots all through him, screwing his eyes shut as his blood flows out into the vampires mouth. The vampire laps up the blood giving a groan of satisfaction at the sweet, coppery taste mixed in with the fear and courage of the army doctor. After a minute or so John feels himself going limp and his struggling stops as he slumps against the tree, the only thing keeping him standing as his eyes flutter shut and his mind goes blank._

_The vampire finishes, gasping in pleasure as his lips leave Johns neck, Johns sweet blood running down his chin he steps away letting John fall to the ground, "Now sleep little doctor, when you wake up a whole new life is ready for you" The vampire whispers into his ear almost seductively just as a shout comes from the path, "JOHN?!". The vampire smirks and disappears into the night._

"Sherlock?!" John greets as he bustles into the flat, clutching 3 bags of groceries with him. Sherlock doesn't raise his head from the microscope he was leaning over, "'M here" He replies quietly, zooming in on the blood sample. John comes through to the kitchen, dumping the bags "What you doing?" He asks, starting to put the things away. Sherlock raises his head and smiles to John, going to him and placing a kiss on his lips, "Blood sample, good day?" He asks, wrapping his arms around the shorter mans neck. John reaches up and replies with a kiss to Sherlocks lips, "Not to bad" He replies with a smirk. John hadn't fed in almost a week now, it was dangerous, yes. But he refused to unless there was a non-human he could drink from, it usually ended up being cattle or other livestock, it tasted disgusting but it was so much better for John than hurting anyone. "I'm sure I could make it…" Sherlock walks John back to the counter, pressing their lips together in a more lingering kiss, "Better" He says with a smirk when breaking the kiss, keeping his lips ghosting over the blondes. John looks up to Sherlock with a smirk, "I'd like to see you try" He mutters against Sherlocks lips.

The pair soon walk themselves into the bedroom, tangled in each other. John pushes Sherlock down onto the bed, never breaking their kiss, Sherlock makes quick work of Johns buttoned shirt, pulling it off and throwing it away, as the kissing heats up John can feel Sherlocks quickened heartbeat pulsing through him, his scent filling him up, John breaks the kiss, trailing hot kisses down Sherlocks jaw and too his neck before taking a deep breath of his scent, "God Sherlock you smell so damn good" John breathes out in a husky tone, Sherlock replies with a breathy laugh. John can feel himself changing but he's not stopping it. Why not?! Johns eyes flicker violet as he pulls his tongue across Sherlocks skin, vampires who were changed and not born have violet eyes unlike real vamps who have red, his taste bursting onto his tongue, salty from the sweat and tangy from lust of the moment, Sherlocks other traits mixing in. John gives a groan of pleasure as his fangs appear. STOP JOHN. His conscious mind is screaming at him but oh god, its been so long since he fed and Sherlock just smells so damn good. Sherlock laughs lowly at Johns behaviour, "Mm, you've never been like this before" Sherlock says in a lower voice than normal.

"Shh" John says in a more demanding voice than he's ever used, but it was still soft, almost dangerous? Sherlock frowns "Jo-" He starts before a hand is bought up of Johns and pushes his head to the side, giving himself better access to Sherlocks neck. Sherlocks frown deepens and he tries to look up but Johns holding his head down, "John what are you do-" Sherlock stops as John flashes a pair of fangs at him. Fangs. Fangs? What has fangs again, vampires. Vampires? Johns a va- Sherlock stills for a long moment before trying to push John off, "John stop, are you a? John?" He stumbles out meaninglessly. John is just about to bite Sherlock, his teeth teasing the detectives skin, when his words seem to bring him back to earth. Johns eyes widen as he sees what he's doing and he immediately pushes himself off of Sherlock, retreating back from him and falling off the bed in his panic, "Oh god Sherlock, Im so…I didn't mean it, Im so sorry. Please I-" John stutters out, from his place on the ground, his eyes sparkling violet. Sherlock pauses as John gets off of him and sits up, holding a hand over his neck and staring at John, an angry expression flooding his features, "How dare you" He spits out, grabbing his phone from beside him and sending a quick text. Oh Mycroft will be happy. John watches as Sherlock sits up and sends a text to someone, he doesn't care who, sparing him only a few words and a glare full of anger. "Sherlock, please, Im sorry I never would have…I didn't" John stutters out, shuffling his knees up protectively to his chest. Sherlock snaps his head back to look at him, "You never would have what John? Bit me? Told me, hurt me? WHAT JOHN?!" Sherlock shouts, standing up off of the bed and not giving John a second glance before storming out of the room. John flinches as Sherlock shouts and backs away from him. No one knew Johns a vampire, accept himself. Not even his family. John swallowed hard, his violet eyes brimming with tears as Sherlock leaves. HE buries his face in his knees. He should have known better than too think he could have a relationship with someone, anyone. Not after what he is.

Time passes and after what seems like hours to John the bedroom door clicks open, John raises his head, his eyes now fading back to blue though still tinged violet, Mycroft? "Ah Doctor Watson, so its true" Mycrofts voice sounds, it doesn't sound like him though, it sounds dark and dangerous. John flinches at it, heightened nerves from everything which was happening. No ones ever found out before, god knows how people will react. But John never expected what was to come, not from Sherlock, how could the man he loves do such a thing to him? Even after knowing the truth.

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**So that's the opening chapter. The next chapter is where it all starts, the dark side of the Holmes boys definitely shining through. Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay so here starts the hurt )': Dark Mycroft and Sherlock experiment John. Enjoy! (:**

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John looks up to the elder Holmes, "Mycroft I-" He starts but Mycoft cuts him off, bending down and looking over him, "A real life vampire" He states and a malevolent smile appears on his face, "Oh yes this will be fun" He says in a quieter tone, John frowns, "Mycroft what are you on about?" He asks, quickly wiping his eyes which are almost fully blue again, Two men suddenly appear in the room and John jumps, "Take your last look at the world John" Mycroft says, straightening up and wiping non-existent dust off of his suit. A flicker of panic passes Johns features and he searches Mycrofts expression for an answer, just about to get up and run away when the two men grab his hand and twist them into a pair of silver handcuffs, as Johns skin comes into contact with such a tight grip of silver an almost silent hissing noise is issues and John screws up his face with pain as the silver burns his wrists. Mycoft chuckles darkly, a glint in his eyes "I see silver works." John swallows hard and looks up at Mycoft, "What are you doing?"He asks, his voice laced with pain and hurt, he looks around for Sherlock but hes nowhere to be seen, "A real life vampire, who wouldn't take advantage of that?" Mycroft replies in a dangerous voice. John stares blankly at him, 'take advantage' What the hell…The two men pull John out of the room and make their way out of 221B. John glances around, wheres Sherlock? Where is he? "Please Mycroft, where's Sherlock?" John says in a pleading tone, "Oh don't worry you'll be seeing him soon enough" Mycroft replies, pulling out a needle, twiddling it in his hands as though admiring it, "See you when you wake up" Mycroft says as he stabs the needle into Johns arm, a mix capable of knocking out a vampire for a few hours. John feels the wold spinning and falls to the ground, his eyes flickering closed. Life as John knows it is over now, hell begins.

Hours passed before John finally wakes up, a pounding echoing through his head. He groans and rolls over onto his back, seemingly lying on some cold, concrete flooring. Sherlock flickers his eyes over as John starts to wake up, "Its about time John" He utters sarcastically. John rouses at the familiar voice, almost forgetting what was actually happening for a moment before he opens his eyes fully and shuffles up into a sitting position, groaning at the pounding in his head and holding a hand weakly up to the painful area, he looks round his position. He is in a large room, its pitch black but of course John can see everything in it. He looks around him and sees metal bars, a cage? John stands up shakily and stumbles over, falling down again with a thud and moaning at the blurring his head. Sherlock laughs heartily, "Oh John, John, John" Sherlock chants fondly. "S-Sherlock?" John questions, pressing a hand to his forehead this time, he flickers his eyes up and shuffles across to the bars on his knees, reaching out and gripping the bars in his hands, jerking them back as it burnt his palms, red scold marks across his palms as well as around his wrists, the marks burnt into his wrists dipping steadily with blood where the cuffs had torn his skin.

John swallows hard, "Sherlock where am I?" John asks in a small voice, looking up at Sherlock even though Sherlock wasn't able to see him well in the lighting. Sherlock 'tsks' and then sighs, "You're in a cage john" He answers obviously. John felt a stabbing in his chest at how cold his tone was. "Sherlock…Please let me go, I wont hurt you…I never w-" Johns cut off, "No John, sorry no can do. You see both me and my brother believe this will be rather entertaining as well as _very _informative for our experiments" John flinched at his words, "Entertaining? Sherlock looks at my wrists. What have I done to deserve this!? Please let me go" He begs, "Shut up John" Sherlock snaps, though something slips in his expression and he looks lost for a moment before covering it up quickly, "Now for our tests to begin, some you will be sedated, unconscious and others fully awake" Sherlock informs him and John can see a smile of anticipation crossing his features. John can feel tears brimming in his eyes, "I thought…I thought you loved me Sherlock?" He whispers in a pained tone, Sherlock stops where he is and kneels down to Johns level, the bars of the cage between them, "I did John, but that was before I knew the monster that you are" He seethes, looking at John with disgust for a moment before standing up and walking away, "The tests will start soon, enjoy these moments of peace" Is the last thing Sherlock says before opening a door and leaving the room, leaving John alone and injured. John stares at the door Sherlock left through for what seems like hours before breaking away his gaze and looking around the cage he's in, there's no blood here and John knows it wont be long before that fact starts to effect him, having not fed for a week. But of course…The Holmes boys knew that…John bows his head as tears start to dampen his lashes and roll down his cheeks, he chokes out some tears, dropping his head onto his raised knee, he should have killed himself all those years ago…

_John sat shaking in his cot, why the hell was he hearing his friends pulses? Ever since the attack things have been…Changing for him. For a start he's always hungry, even if he eats and drinks all he can there's still this hunger inside of him that he just cant seem to quash. His senses have sharpened up, he keeps smelling things he shouldn't be able to like emotions, fear and happiness Now he's hearing things from way further away and whilst awake last night he noticed he could see in the dark. John had pretended to be ill today, it was all too much, he sat with the gun in front of him, he knew exactly what was happening to him, he was changing…Into a vampire. It would be a cold day in hell before he bit anyone, so there was only one solution, right? John loaded the gun holding it up and swallowing hard, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Its the only option, save the world and the people you love from the monster you're becoming…One, two, three. He pulled the trigger and felt the cold, hard bullet ripping through his chest. But nothing. He kept breathing…There's no way out…_

Johns senses were rapidly working as the minutes ticked on without any blood, he heard a mouse scuttling around in the wall at the other side of the room, but no humans. Johns breathing picked up ad he could feel himself changing, Jesus. Control yourself John. He said to himself, but it was no use, his eyes flickered violet and a growly shout escaped his lips.

Mycroft and Sherlock smirk simutaneoulsy whilst watching the camera fixed on John.

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**Okay so Ihoped you enjoyed that, we see some more gory tests next chapter. Please review(: If you want to RP, Pm me. I dont mind what type it is, vamplock, teenlock, parentlock or just Johnlock. :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**So you'll be getting a little more of Johns history in each chapter, im gonna try and update every day but dont hate me if that doesnt happen :s Enjoy!**

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John clamped his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the noises and smells and oh god everything! Which was screaming at him from outside. He could feel himself vamping out. John curls himself up, retreating to the very back of his cage. The first time this happened John had no idea what to do…

_"Come on Johnny, where ya going!?" Mackenzie shouted out, clapping Johns shoulder giddily, John jumped violently at the touch, snapping his head round with a glare which he quickly dropped into a fake smile, "Sorry Mack I just have to…" John jumped up off of his cot and walks as naturally as possible to the exit of the tent, Mackenzie frowns at Johns behaviour "Go take a piss" He quickly excused himself with a laugh, his comment throwing Mackenzie off the scent. As soon as he was out of sight he started running away from the tent, away from the people, the pulses, the smells. Everything. John could still hear the hearty laughing of the men back at camp when he was as far away as possible. He started pacing up and down the well-trodden path. vaguely noting his breathing had picked up and there was a strange tingling sensation in his gums. John started to panic. This can't be happening, not to him. Vampires aren't even real! Unknown to John, pearly white fangs were starting to poke through his pink gums and his bright blue eyes were starting to mix with a deep violet colour, his pupils dilating and taking up most of what was meant to be the white of his eyes._

_John hears it from almost half a mile away, footsteps. He takes a deep breath of the humid, desert air around him, its tinged slightly with the lingering smell of blood from the men lost and inured there today, a bomb had exploded and injured 3 of their men, killing 4. The emotion of fear and loss, grief and pain also mixed in. John let out a growl as he smelled no humans near, his fangs now fully exposed and his eyes filled lid to lid with a sparkling violet color._

_ John snaps his head around as a twig snaps from behind him and standing in front of him is the last thing he expected. The tall, thin figure of his attacker from almost a week ago now is leaning lazily against a tree, his pale skin sparkling in the moonlight, deep hazel eyes swimming in the darkness and his dark brown hair flicked casually aside, a smirk flickers onto his features as he sees John, fully vamped out. "Johnny" He greets in an excited tone, "I suppose you've figured out what's happening to you by now, love" He asks in a casual tone, although it's the most normal thing that could happen to John. John swallows hard, he should be protesting to being called 'love' by this complete stranger who had attacked him the other night and typically changed him into an un-dead freak, he should be screaming and shouting and throwing punches for that very fact but no...instead, "Yes" The word rolled off of Johns tongue before he even knew what he was saying. At the obedience a grin flashed the vampires features and he took a few steps forward to John, raising a hand to Johns cheek, softly. John doesn't even flinch, he cant, some sort of strange bond seems to have stitched itself between the pair and John felt attached to the man, he couldn't deny him. John took a deep breath as the vampire came closer, smelling the blood he had brought, his eyes flickering slightly and a moan escaping his lips. __The vampire smiles outwards at Johns reaction and leans into him, "I brought a present, love" The vampire purrs, close to Johns ear before pulling out a fresh pack of blood from under his jacket, he holds it out and John looks up for approval? Approval…From this vampire, the vampire nods and John takes it immediately, ripping the top of it open hastily and drinking every last drop of the sweet blood messily, the liquid flooding over his lips and dripping off his chin. He throws aside the empty pack and takes a few deep breaths, feeling the red substance filling him up, flowing through his veins, his body warming up again. A smirk quirks at the edge of the vampires pale lips, "What do you say, love?" He asks quietly, "Thank you" John chants out. "Casper, love" The vampire tells John with a smirk, he leans down to the shorter man and places a kiss on his lips, John doesn't reject it and instead replies to it, blood still on his own lips though his fangs have retracted and his eyes are fading back to blue. Casper slips his tongue through Johns lips, tasting the coppery blood before drawing back, "We can be together now, love" He whispers in a husky tone and John nods, "Thank you, Casper" John replies. __What John didn't know was that simply being bitten by a vampire would kill a man, But john was different. Casper wanted to be with John._

A loud bang sounds from across the large room and John groans as its intensified with his sharpened hearing. Almost immediately afterwards a wave of scent floods to John, the sweet smell of blood filling up his senses. He groans as he only smells it and follows the smell to the bars of his cage, getting up with non-human speed and pressing himself against the bars of the cage, ignoring the burning from the silver scolding his hands and forearms. Mycroft comes into view, throwing a pack of blood lazily between his hands and walking back and forth in front of John, "It seems, _Dr _Watson, after only a day or so we can have you on your knees…So to speak" He starts in a taunting tone, smirking over to John who is pressed against the bars and on his knees, his eyes fully violet and his fangs protruding from his upper lip. John growls viciously at him, baring his teeth. Mycroft laughs heartily, "You cant do anything to me Dr Watson, when we have you so well contained" He continues in an amused tone.

Mycroft pauses before tossing the blood pack to John, letting it fall short so it's just out of his reach, on the other side of the bars. John drops to the floor and tries to grab the blood but as he puts his arm through the bars the silver burns into his bare skin causing him to jerk it back, "Have fun Dr Watson, you have to sacrifice something, your skin or your blood" He chuckles darkly as he leaves the room again. Johns breathing has hiked now and he's taking in breaths sharply, the blood clouding everything else out. He takes half a breath and sticks his arm through the sturdy bars, screaming in pain as his skin is torn by the silver but grabs the blood pulling his arm back and shuffling to the back of his cage, ripping open the pack and pouring the red liquid down his throat, he moans pleasurably as the blood flows down his throat and into his body before slumping to the ground, his breathing starting to slow again and his pupils shrinking back to their normal size, still glistening violet. Usually the blood would heal his injuries, but he doesn't have enough of it to do that, he looks down at his forearm, the skin torn and ripped, blood steadily gathering and dripping off of it. John cant stop the tears which overflow his lids and fall down his cheeks, dropping off of his chin,mingling with the blood stained there. He wraps his arm in his tshirt to stop the blood loss, the shackles bonding his ankles and wrists have already cut into said areas. A painful knot twisting violently in his chest.

Sherlock smiles as he watches how John drowns away the blood, his smile fades as he watches him wrap his arm in his shirt, tears dropping off of his chin. He sighs as Mycroft enters and turns to him slightly, "What next?" He asks, "I think it's about time we see how exactly a vampires body works" Mycroft answers with a smirk, watching the screen. Sherlock swallows lightly but nods, "Of course" He says, a smirk flickering onto his face again.

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**So does Sherlock care? On that note please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay so here we are, Chapter 4. Im off on holiday on Sunday guys so no updates for a while, hopefully I'll be able to get one in tomorrow though. If not have a great week! And enjoy reading of course!**

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John should have seen this part coming really. Thinking of who Mycroft and Sherlock are, what kind of people they are. Scientists underlying. John shuffled back to his 'bed', which wasn't really fit to be called a bed and tucked his knees up to his chest, resting his chin upon them, silently crying, he had tried to be strong, tried not to cry but he just couldn't help himself. The man he thought loved him as much as he loved him had, after finding out what he was, thrown him in a cage, tortured and starved him and that was just so far. It had been around an hour since the blood was given to John and he was starting to grow exhausted, his eyes fluttering closed only for him to shake his head quickly to try and wake himself up again. John heard the door clicking open and raised his eyes, which were hooded by sleepy lids, to look into the darkness, Sherlock walking towards him. John swallows down daggers and quickly wipes his eyes as though both he and his brother hadn't been watching him all this time. Sherlock sits down by the bars and sighs, "You know John, everything would have been so much better…Easier if you had just told me what you are in the first place" He starts, John looks down, swallowing both rage and hurt. "Please Sherlock…Stop this" John begs, "Come here, John" Sherlock chants out…

_"Come here, John" Casper whispers. It had been 2 weeks now since John had been changed and he was finding everything pretty…Okay extremely difficult to come to terms with. He was a blood-sucking, non-living, disgusting freak and he couldn't change that. As soon as he's away from Casper he feels an overwhelming urge to kill him, cut his fucking head off for condemning him to such an existence, but as John attends the more and more frequent calls Casper demands he feels so at peace, so safe with him. John could slip away from the camp easily. He would go to Caspers tent, he later found out that Casper was in fact in the army as a general, it only seemed proper he should be in a higher ranking, just in a different division to John. _

_John smiles and nods, going to Casper and sitting next to him, he reaches a hand up placing it softly on Johns cheek and running his thumb over it, "What is it, love?" Casper asks after a few moments, sensing something bothering john, as his creator John couldn't deny him anything, including a truthful answer to his questions. John swallows hard and flickers his gaze away from Caspers warm eyes, "I don't want to be this" John answers simply. Casper smiles softly, "Oh John, whats not to want. You get to stay young and alive forever, you get to be with me" Casper replies in a silky tone, John nods. Casper cocks a brow, "What's that?" He asks quietly, "Of course, Casper" John replies, moving his eyes back to meet the brunettes. Casper smirks, "Exactly, Johnny" He replies softly, pressing their lips together, John flinches and moves away, Casper frowns before narrowing his eyes at the blonde, "John. What is wrong?" Casper asks in a more demanding tone. John flickers his eyes up to the man standing too close to him, god knows what was different this time, maybe its just because Johns starting to come around to the idea he is now a vampire but he can feel anger bubbling inside of him towards this man. "You made me this, you caused this. You. Made me this monster" John states, raising his eyes to hold Caspers angrily. Caspers narrowed eyes stay that way and he gives a small growl and in the blink of an eye has John pushed against the flimsy wall, holding his wrist tightly, "You do not speak to me in that tone, John" He snaps, keeping his face close to Johns as he turns away the best he can. Casper tightens his hold on Johns wrist almost painfully, "John?" He repeats in an impatient tone, "Im sorry, Casper" John replies, feeling that same controlled feeling flooding back into him, also with the peace and safety even though the most dangerous thing to him right now was the vampire in front of him. Caspers sweet appearance pops up again and he smiles smoothly, letting go of Johns wrist, "Good, Love" He says softly, almost caringly. John nods and knows exactly what Casper wants so reaches up and presses their lips together. Casper was all in all a good master, he would get angry when John didn't do what he was told or 'used that tone' to him but other than that he was calm and caring, never making John do anything he didn't want to… _

"John. Come here" Sherlock repeats as John doesn't move. John shakes his memories away and looks up to Sherlock, scanning his body for anything which might cause him harm, Johns primary instinct had kicked in and because he knew he was in danger his eyes were permanantly violet, not lid to lid. What was usually blue was violet. John didn't move towards Sherlock, he could smell no love or caring off of him, just coldness. Sherlock frowned as John didn't move and swallowed hard before holding his hand through the bars of the cage. John looked up as he saw a hand reaching out and a wave of scent floods to him, he could easily grab Sherlock wrist and drink from him but he couldn't. Not John. He vowed to never bite a human. Never mind Sherlock. John shuffles closer to Sherlock and reaches out his own shaking hand, to Sherlocks. Sherlock holds it for a mere second before John feels a sharp sting in his upper arm and the world starts spinning, John looks at Sherlock with pain in his eyes before the flutter closed. His hand going limp in Sherlocks. Sherlock blinked a few times at the unconscious form of John laying limp on the floor, he held tightly onto John hand for a few seconds, it had been so cold, and shaking, covered in his own blood...Well. The blonde was terrified. Sherlock swallows hard and takes his hand back, holding it to his chest and watching John for a few moments, doubt flickered through Sherlocks mind, he was hurt by the fact John didn't tell him, he didn't exactly run away from the idea of a vampire, no he wasn't scared he was hurt. And John deserves to feel the pain because of this…Doesn't he? Sherlocks mind whirls through thoughts before the door opening pulls him out, "Having fun yet brother dear?" Mycrofts monotone drawled…

Everything had just went black, the last thing he remembers is Sherlocks face, he thought he saw a flicker of…No he couldn't have, not after what he and Mycroft are doing. John wakes up hours later, screaming out as hes flooded with pain, a searing, hot white pain stabbing his chest. John coughs a few times a splutter of blood forced out of his mouth as he crawled onto his knees, the pain was almost rendering him unconscious again. John collapses onto his side, coughing up blood, and taking in gasping, wet breathes. He lets his eyes scan down his body to where he was injured. His chest. John pulls up his shirt, groaning in pain and trying not to move as much as possible. His breath caught in his throat as he saw a large red mark stretched out across where his heart is, John groaned, pulling himself up to the bed and holding a hand over his belly, not touching his chest. It was obvious what they'd done to him, John coughed out more blood, tears trickling down his cheeks and leaving tracks through the blood, "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" John used all of his strength to scream out.

Sherlock swallows hard as he watches John waking up, blood and tears splattered across his face. "Mycroft, don't you think this is going to far?" He asks, turning from the screen to where Mycroft was cleaning up, he stops and looks up "Caring is not an advantage Sherlock" Mycroft reminded him. Sherlock let out an unsteady breath but nods, looking back to the screen fixed on John. As John screams out Sherlock flinches. Oh god what has he done?

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**There we are. So Sherlock starting to show he really does care about John? so I'll see you guys in a week or so! Please send reviews it helps me a lot (:**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry about the time between updates this chapter! It will most likely be a few days to a week between updates now. Anyhoo Enjoy!**

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John took in a few wheezy breathes before pushing himself up onto the thin sheeted bed and laying on his back, giving a groan at the pain that shot through him due to the simple action. He closes his eye letting darkness engulf him, a hand held protectively over his chest, every time he takes a breath he can feel the loose, shabby stitching pulling against his skin, just threatening to rip. The more he tried to be strong the less it was working, a tear rolling down his cheek, finally the exhaustion pulled him unconscious. It wasn't long before a nightmare occurred, with no safe, warm arms around him. He would never have that again...

_ John hardly notices as the bullets shoot past his head, missing him by inches at the most. There was only one thing which was important now; get to the injured soldier. Everywhere he looked was covered in blood and the instinct to drink was almost overpowering. Almost. John pushes on, looking straight ahead and dropping to his knees as he gets to the injured man. The mans injuries rushing into his mind. Shot in the torso, bleeding out, head injury from falling and hitting the ground, wheezing. A hand grabbed his and stopped his flow of thoughts for a moment, the man opens his eyes and looks up to johns, "J-John?" He questions through gasping breaths. John nods and squeezes the hand in his, "it's okay James, you're going to be fine. Just breath." John assures him, recognizing the man and starting to get his equipment out to stabilize him before moving him into safety. Blood was pooling around James's middle and head, his breathing getting worse. John curses under his breath and addresses the head injury first, quickly cleaning it and dressing it, stopping the constant bleeding. He immediately moves to the other injury and cuts open the soldiers uniform, quickly wiping away the blood so he could see the wound. The bullet lodged in between his ribs. _

_John flickers his eyes up to James's face and gives his hand a tight squeeze to get his attention, his own hands now covered in blood, "James I need you to take deep breaths okay?" He says loudly as a bullet shoots just by his head, missing him by an inch. James opens his eyes, which were screwed closed and looks over johns expression, nodding and biting his lip in pain. John nods and moves back to the wound, the firing picks up again and one skims johns side, John curses and throws his things into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and fastening it there, "we need to move him under cover" John shouts through the gunfire to his partner, who is retreating without another man. Johns partner nods and flattens out the stretcher, "James, we're moving you under cover, okay?" John shouts to him over the gunfire, "deep breathes. 1, 2, 3" John pulls him onto the stretcher an James gives a choked groan, which probably would have been a scream if he had the energy. John and his partner immediately pick it up, keeping as low as possible as they make their way back. Suddenly an excruciating pain shoots through Johns entire body and he falls to the ground, his eyes screwing tightly shut, voices are shouting muffled words at him but all he can see is blood and all he can feel is the searing pain in his shoulder which felt like hot iron scolding inside of him. The nightmares were always the same as this, either that or repeating the times John had lost men. Something was different this time, usually at this time he would wake up but this time he opens his eyes in the dream and is met by the laughing faces of Sherlock and Mycroft, in a fully white room, holding bloody scalpels. He looks down at himself and sees he's covered in blood, his chest torn up, Sherlocks sadistic words fade and his name can be heard... _

John writhes about on the cold, hard bed. Tears streaming down his cheeks and sweat shining on his forehead. A scream escapes his mouth as he jerks around on the bed. A soothing voice somehow makes its way through the chaos "John" it says. John whimpers, his arm still over his chest as the voice comes through stronger, "John!" It exclaims. John wakes up suddenly, his whole body jerking upwards and his breathing ragged, he quickly wipes his eyes and looks around urgently, spotting someone by his cage and jumping harshly, off of the bed and shuffling to the back to the cage, "pl-please stop it. I-I can't. Stop it please" John stutters out helplessly, the aftermath of his nightmare only just fading. Death would be better than what's happening to him, well technically he already had that. He suddenly recognizes the face is Sherlocks. He can smell his emotions radiating off of him clearly now. What the hell? John thinks as clear fear and pain.

"John" Sherlocks deep voice interrupts his thoughts, John flinches at it, shuffling his knees up to his chest and ignoring the pain. Watching his old lover with caution. "John I-" Sherlock begins again. John frowns and closes his eyes, waiting for the new words he would use against him, the new pain he would find to inflict on him. John sighs, standing up unsteadily, the lack of blood and his injuries getting to him. He wipes his teary eyes and sweaty forehead and sits down on the bed. Holding his hands together as they're shaking. "W-what do you want?" John asks quietly, cursing himself for how shaky he sounds. Sherlock shuffles uncomfortably and sits down by the bars, "I heard you having a nightmare and I...came to make sure you're okay" Sherlock says as though nothing was wrong between them, like he and his brother weren't keeping John in a cage like an animal, like Sherlock had helped John, instead of this. Like Sherlock hadn't wanted this…

John looks up, his mouth opening even though nothing comes out. If. I'm. Okay? His mind hisses. He stares at Sherlock for a moment or two through the dim lighting before his expression falters into what he's actually feeling. He drops to the ground and goes to the bars of his cage, looking up at Sherlock, a single tear rolling down his cheek, "Sherlock please, I'm begging you. Let me go, ill stay away from you and Mycroft. I promise, I will get out of your life forever" John begs him, his eyes full of emotion. Hurt, pain, loss, worry and everything else hopeless. Sherlock shakes his head and looks away from johns expressive eyes, "No John. I can't" he replies in a blocked tone, the one he uses to hide emotions. John chokes out a sob, "I don't want to be this!" He exclaims, what could be mistaken for anger though really he's scared. Sherlock swallows and looks up at John, taking in his appearance. His eyes are red from crying (he's still crying?), his hairs a mess with blood and sweat, his shirt buttoned up incorrectly over the large gash across his chest,his wrists and ankles have tattered skin due to the silver bounds, the overall lack of blood has drained him of colour and is seemingly preventing the healing of his injuries, his hands are shaking (why are his hands shaking? Pain...fear?) Sherlock shook his head minimally, he can't be afraid.

Sherlock frowns and raises a hand sharply to confirm this or not. John flinches and backs away, eyeing him wearily, the last time Sherlock had held his hand it was to inject him. Sherlock swallows hard, he's scared...of me. Sherlock thinks with a frown, his eyes flashing an emotion before it is hidden again, "why are you afraid of me?" He asks with a frown. How could a vampire be afraid of a human? John looks up at him, a flicker of confusion over his expression. "Why am I afraid of you?" He repeats breathlessly, an angry expression appearing on his features. "my boyfriend who I loved dearly found out the monster I am and decided to torture me, you cut me open. I'm terrified of you" John admits, realizing the cut on his chest is steadily oozing blood. The world was going fuzzy again, Sherlocks outline a blur. Sherlock says something else but he doesn't catch it, the smell of fresh blood suddenly filling up his mind and body, his eyes changing violet in one blink and his fangs protruding from his top lip. He holds a hand over his mouth and closes his eyes. "Go away! I don't want you to...see me. Like-" he manages to get out before a moan covers up his words. Sherlock holds his arm through the bars, his hand holding a warm pack of blood, John stumbles over at the overwhelming smell but shakes his head furiously, "no no no. Where did you...WHO?!" John shouts angrily, holding his hands over his head. Sherlock flinches and doesn't reply, instead piercing the pack, blood trickling down onto his hand and then onto the ground.

John groans and in the flash of an eye grabs the blood pack, sucking the blood out of it and throwing the empty pack away. Sherlock watches as a tiny amount of color returns to John. But Johns still crying. He's _still _crying. Sherlock keeps his arm through the bars, it's still coated in blood. John sobs quietly into his knees, "John" Sherlock starts softly, "why haven't you bit me?" He asks softly. John raises his head slowly and his eyes flickering to the blood dripping off of Sherlocks arm, "I've never bit a human, I've never hurt. Anyone." He says clearly, pronouncing every word with anger. Sherlock frowns deeply and shakes his head, "no, no, no this is all wrong you're a...you're a" John feels anger engulf him and he is at the bars next to Sherlock in less than a second, his eyes violet and the most dangerous Sherlock had ever seen them when johns looking at him. "I'm the monster? I never asked for this fate and i have never hurt anyone, you have tortured me and bound me here for being something i cannot change. Who is the real monster Sherlock" he says in a dangerous whisper, taking the hand offered to him. He stops in his tracks when he sees the small hole, a needle…To take blood? He snaps his face up to Sherlocks. It was Sherlock who smuggled him blood? "Goodbye John" Sherlock states sadly, tears shining in his eyes. Sherlock squeezes Johns hand as soon as its in his but it is gone all to quickly. Johns hand was shaking and cold, not the usual warm, soft, safe John. He felt so weak and helpless. Sherlock takes his hand back and holds it to his chest before standing and walking out of the room. A backward glance saved for John as well as a tear rolling down his could smell the sadness and pain on Sherlock, but couldn't understand it. It made no sense._ He _made no sense.

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**So Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. What is going on with you? Maybe there's something more to his involvment...Please review! Notifications keep me motivated!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay guys, shorter chapter here. Sorry! Ive been finding it difficult to actually get writing time recently so updates will probably be more like weekly now.)': Anyway enjoy! Sherlock...Its about time.**

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_John lay emotionlessly in his crib, not wanting to move anywhere. The pain and grief of loss weighing down in his chest. Casper was gone and theres nothing John can do about it. Although at the beginning John despised Casper for turning him and the fact he couldn't lash out on him, John had slowly became happy being with Casper, in a way that wasn't fake because of the bond that had to be between them. Casper never asked anything of John, everything they did was because John initiated it. God now he wished he hadn't, now he could never again. He had helped John through the change which he, a doctor, found extremely difficult to come to terms with. _

_It was yesterday John received the news, of course because no one thought he would care or need to be informed about a generals passing, so he heard it casually from his mates. Immediately excusing himself from the table. "Bloody bastards. I heard they cut his fucking head of. Machete, barbarians" Alexander says with a shake of his head. John halts half way through taking a bite of food and looks up. "Casp-Walkers dead?" John half whispers, correcting himself quickly. He had been getting stomach cramps all day, really bad ones, he had never really had them before but that couldnt be because- Caspers dead. Casper is dead. Johns face pales as Mackenzie nods in confirmation. John feels panic, grief, anger, confusion, everything rising inside him and he stands after a few minutes as to not make it obvious and leaves the table, running as far away as possible before doubling over and being sick into the bushes by the road. The grief of losing Casper knowing inside him already. Anger burning through him for the men that killed him. It couldn't have just been a bullet which he would have survived? It had to be decapitation. John stays out and away from everything for a few long hours before returning to his tent, early the next morning and curling up in his crib. Now he was alone, more alone than ever._

"Mycroft this is far past too much and you know it, you fucking bastard!" Sherlock shouts angrily at his brother. Who is standing emotionless in front of him, twirling an umbrella absently. "I do believe this is what you wanted Sherlock, after all you are the one who called me" Mycroft replies calmly with an eyebrow raised sarcastically, aggravating Sherlock even more. "I NEVER WANTED THIS!" Sherlock shouts back, slamming his fist onto the table between them. "You called _me _Sherlock, you told me after knowing everything I have previously done to vampires" Mycroft states calmly, "You have stood by and done nothing so far, whilst Watson has undergone an ample amount of pain and suffering. Both mental and physical" Mycroft continues. Sherlock narrows his eyes dangerously at his brother. "Let. Him. Go." He says clearly. Mycroft rolls his eyes, "Sherlock Ive always told you caring is not an advantage." He starts, walking round to his little brother, "But caring for this…this…Vampire?" He spits out, a disgusted look plastered on his face, "That's just idiotic" He ends with a shake of his head and a dissaproving look to his younger brother. "John is staying in my hold until Im done with him…then he will be disposed of" Mycroft says bluntly, turning to walk away. At these words Sherlocks head snaps up and he blinks several times. Disposed of? Disposed. Of. "You never told me you would kill him. You said after I did this you would let him go. You promised me Mycroft, if I helped he would be freed" Sherlock says, his voice steadily rising in anger. Mycroft shrugs, "Don't forget Sherlock, you were the one who called me. You could have kept Johns secret, you could have protected him, kept him safe and unharmed but instead you called me…Knowing what my intentions would be. I knew you couldn't last long however, as much as you hate to admit it you are very fond of John, so of course you needed an incentive, whether it was a lie or not" Mycroft says, emotionless save for the smirk quirking at the edge of his lips. Sherlocks anger rises dangerously, his eyes burning as he looks at Mycroft. Just as the elder reaches the door he pauses, "Oh and remember the consequences if John 'happens' to get free" He reminds him swiftly before leaving the room and Sherlock alone.

As soon as his brother leaves the room Sherlock lets out a shout, swiping his hand across the desk and sending the contents smashing to the ground. Pacing the messy room with his hands pulling furiously through his hair Sherlock looks around frantically. He needs to get John out of this. He cant let Mycroft 'dispose of him'. No. Sherlock doesn't even stop to grab his signature coat and scarf as he runs out of the room and into the one Johns cage was being held in. Whatever the consequences on him he needs to get John out.

Johns head snaps up as the door is opened and immediately a wave of emotions hit him like a wall. John takes a moment, his frown slowly deepening at the emotions and fear projected to him, as he stands he squints through the darkness. "Sherlock?" He utters under his breath.

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**Thoughts on Sherlock? Reviews are lovely (:**


	7. Chapter 7

**Im not going to say anything much here, but here we are chapter 7. Enjoy! I listened to some sad songs to try and help me put emotion into this chapter...**

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The hurried footsteps grow louder and closer to Johns cage and soon he is aware of the reason of Sherlocks presence. Keys jangling in his pocket. John rises from his bed and eyes Sherlock warily through the darkness, Sherlock however glances behind him and halts at the bars on the cages at short notice, "John" He utters, his hands fisted around the bars of his cage so tightly his knuckles were white and his gaze trailing the ground to hide his eyes. Blissfully unaware John could smell his emotions. John carefully treads out of the darkness and up to the bars of the cage, his eyes scanning Sherlocks form, to the keys, to his posture then to his hidden face. "S-Sherlock?" John questions, one arm still across his chest protectively.

Sherlock looks up to him, his breathing ragged and his lashes wet, "Theres no words I can use to apologise for this" Sherlock starts, his voice laced with pain as he puts his arm through the bars and opens his palm to expose a set of keys to John. "Im so sorry, I should've helped you sooner" Sherlock says, his voice breaking in an attempt to hold back tears. John looks between the keys and Sherlock. _What is this? _After all Sherlocks done to me he comes here and gives me keys and _apologizes. _Johns mind rallies to him. Why is he crying. Why? John could feel that Sherlock wasn't just making a show for him with the tears. John reaches out and takes the keys, Sherlock holding his hand before he takes it away, a few tears rolling out of his eyes and over his cheeks, "Get as far away as possible, Mycroft will be looking for you. John, Im so sorry" He says seriously before taking his hand away and holding it to him, looking over John as if trying to memorise him. He looks away to the ground, biting his lip in an attempt to stop his emotions.

John holds the keys firmly in his palm and looks between Sherlock and the door. What? What is going on here? Johns mind thinks frantically but his instinct kicks in and he rushes to the door, slipping is hand through the bars with a hiss and twisting the key in the lock, letting out a relived breath as the heavenly click sounds. He pushes open the door with his foot and rushes out. But what now, nowhere to go, no one to seek shelter with. Johns alone. Alone because he was stupid enough to show his true nature to Sh- John pauses and turns his head to Sherlock, who is sitting on the ground, holding one hand weakly onto the bars where he had been speaking to John. He tilts his head upwards slightly, closing his eyes lightly as if expecting John to attack him. Who would blame him? After what he's done to him. Let happen to him. Sherlock swallows as the long silence is drawn out, nothing happening but the pair watching what they once had. John closes his eyes and takes in an unsteady breath, "Goodbye Sherlock" He says strongly before running to the door and leaving the room with inhuman speed. Little did John know, but those two words will prove to cause more pain to Sherlock than attacking him ever could have. Once John leaves Sherlock defence breaks and he presses his forehead to the bars, letting the tears flow freely out of his eyes for the first time in many years. He'd just lost the single most important person in his life, and that's not the most painful thing. Its _his _fault. Painful memories cross Sherlocks mind, John had been nothing but kind to him, his flatmate, his only friend, his lover. When they had first became partners John had never tried to force Sherlock into anything, taken his inexperience into account even though he was experienced himself. Given him compliments instead of the usual 'freak'. Gotten to know him instead of his eccentrics. The list went on and on, the guilt dug into Sherlock chest and settles in the pit of his stomach like he had swallowed acid.

The door behind him slammed open, Sherlock doesn't even react, keeping his eyes closed and his head bowed against the cages solid bars. A hand grabs his shoulder and pulls him up, holding him against the bars painfully. Sherlock looks away to the side, controlling and hiding his emotions thought the dampness of his eye lashes was a tell-tale sign of how he really felt. Mycroft it seemed knew what Sherlock had done and had returned as quickly as he could, he obviously had some sort of alarm on the lock on Johns cage. "You stupid man Sherlock" Mycroft seethes to his little brother, who refuses to look him in the eye. "You just released a _vampire_" Mycroft hisses as though he had done the unthinkable, his eyes burning with anger. At no reaction from Sherlock he takes his free hand to push his chin up roughly so he looks at him, "I should have known you would let your _emotions_ get the better of you" Mycroft hisses in a dangerous whisper as though the concept is alien to him. Sherlock steels his jaw and looks at his brother, "I let him go because he doesn't deserve this" Sherlock retorts, his voice quieter than it should be. Mycrofts face twists into a snarl and he slaps Sherlock across the face, letting him go and looking over him with both disgust and disappointment, Sherlock hardly reacts to the slap, a small cut blossoming on his cheek which was tinted red. Mycroft looks over him for a few long moments before straightening and brushing his suit down, "Go home, and do whatever it is you plan to do with your life, get high and over dose for all I care just. _Stay out of my way. _I warn you Sherlock" Mycroft speaks clearly before turning and leaving his brother alone.

What seems like hours to Sherlock pass before he musters the strength to pick himself up, making his way out of the warehouse with little strength, returning to Baker street did nothing but serve to make him feel sick, it was hardly home to him without John there. There was only one thing Sherlock wanted to do right now. Forget. Forget what he'd done, forget what he once had. Forget about John. Forget about himself. So Sherlock detours on the way home, managing to render his expression blank as he heads down the oh so familiar alleyway. He hadn't been here for years, but it hadn't changed. It never changes. Sherlock slips through the alleyway, hardly noticed by anyone, an advantage he had picked up from the amount of time he had spent hidden, and knocks on a small wooden door, deep into the dark corners of London, his hand twitching anxiously with anticipation. Everything felt like déjà vu. The door creaked open just a crack to reveal a 35 or so year old man whos face immediately lights up when he sees Sherlock. "Holmes, you're back…Come in" He greets, his voice silky but slimy as he steps back slightly and lets Sherlock inside...

That was the last time Sherlock was seen for months.

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**Hope you liked it, reviews pleeeeeaase?...Pretty please...Pretty please with some jam on top?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Right so here's chapter 8...No ones reviewing which makes me sad ): Please tell me if I'm doing a good job or any improvements or suggestions you want to bring up. Thank you! And enjoy!**

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John ran as far and as fast as he could. He didn't stop, not once; not when thunder started echoing above him, _for Sherlock_, when rain hammered down from heavy grey clouds, _go back_, when the sun faded from the sky and left the world around him black,_ Sherlock._ God damn it. As soon as John gets far enough away from…That place. He stops, immediately aware of the sickness churning in his stomach from so much running on empty, the pain tearing through his chest from how much movement hes been making. That's when panic starts to tingle through him, he can feel the blood slowly starting to trickle out of the gash on his chest all over his already bloody and now soaking wet shirt and body. _Where can I go? _John thinks frantically. Sherlock had said I have to get as far away as possible from Mycroft. _Why does he care? _Shut up that's not important right now. _Is it really not? _SHUT UP. John takes in a shaky breath and rubs his unsteady hand over his face, slipping into an alley and dropping himself to the ground, No one is walking about apart from the odd person going about their business, dodgy by the looks of it since its pitch black and bucketing freezing rain. Nothing. John has nothing, no home, no possessions, no family who care about him, no friends who know the truth…_Apart from one_. He's not a friend…John swallows down the growing lump in his throat and picks himself up.

Pacing slightly and running his fingers over his dirty hair, which did nothing to help apart from render his fingers wet, john thinks frantically. A plan, that's all he needs, then he'll be fine. Alone. First things first, new clothes so he doesn't look like he's just went through a few days of torture, either that or killed someone. Then somewhere to stay for now. A cheap motel will do._ You have no money. _Ill find some. _ Find some? Steal some more like…_Okay so motel is out of the question. Then theres only one option. _Baker street. _Harrys. John blinks a few times, clearing his thoughts. Yes Harrys, she wont be happy but until John sorts himself out he will be fine there. So that's what John does.

John turns up on Harrys doorstep, having thrown on a jacket to hide his blood (Not that she was sober enough to have noticed) and chaps a shaking hand on her door a few times, nervously waiting for her to answer. John hears several thumps coming from behind the door before it opens, slowly at first before Harry realises who it is and throws it open, a lop-sided grin massive on her features. "Joh-n?!" She exclaims to her little brother, her voice slurred and heavy with alcohol, she pulls John into a crushing hug, which John has to screw his eyes up and bite his lip to avoid screaming out in pain. "What're-you doin' 'ere" She slurs happily. John breifly explains his situation, passing it off for having an argument with his boyfriend and getting kicked out, painting on a sad smile and covering up his pain artfully with only an arm curled around his stomach to even indicate to anything more than heart ache. Harry agrees to let him stay, probably because of the fact she was pissed right now…

It only took two good feedings for John to heal physically, his cuts, bruises and burns vanishing leaving only a slight and very faint scar and reminder of what had happened. Mentally John was far less stable, his senses had stayed in their heightened state for weeks. Some nights he would wake up, the constant noises almost driving him mad, hearing even a simple dripping of water but over and over and over again. Jumping at even the slightest or quietest noise which he doesn't expect. His reflexes sharpened and working even without command…But after a few weeks his senses calmed down to almost normal, he found work at the local hospital; only a small job as he was still being careful about being found by Mycroft. So John went back to trying to live his life But even as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months John couldn't stop thinking about one thing. _Sherlock._

It was months before John thought about the possibility…Seeing Sherlock again

John lay on top of the bed Harry had provided him with in her spare room, holding his arms above him and looking at his wrists. He trails a finger lightly over the scar which had been left all the way around his skin on his wrist. Tears prickling behind his eyes. It had been 5 months now since it was all over, the last time John saw Sherlock, and John knew, he knew that no matter what he should just get as far away from that man as possible , start a new life, maybe have a family, it would be good but no…John just couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock. The amount of emotion which he had felt in him that night was way too much to be faked so why then? Why did he let his brother do those awful things to him, torture him, starve him, treat him like some monster who was worth no more than the dirt on his shoe. John realizes all too late that warm moisture is rolling down his cheeks and he hastily drops his arms to wipe the tears away, rolling onto his side and curling up whilst staring at his emptied bag by the wardrobe. Answers that's all he needs. Well that's what Johns trying to convince himself but what he really needs? What he really cant live without is Sherlock. It sickens him to think it but sometimes he wishes he had just stayed, through the torture. Hell sometimes John convinced himself he wouldn't even care if Sherlock abused him as long as he was with him, close to him. John flickers his eyes up to the clock which was hung precariously on the wall, its _tick tock tick tock, _echoing in his ears. 8pm. John takes a shaky breath and stands, quickly packing his bag with the necessities which was all he had and slinging it over his shoulder. John sighs nervously and stuffs his hands which he realised were shaking slightly into his pockets. Leaving a scrawled note to explain to his sister before leaving her home.

An hour later a very anxious John was stood on the step of Baker Street. As he looked up at the glossy, black door and the gold 221 he swallows heavily, raising his hand and knocking with a shaking hand. _This is a bad idea, theres still time to run-_ Johns thoughts were interrupted by the door being forcefully pulled open "What do you wan-…John?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello guys! Right so I got this chapter out real quick cause I really enjoyed writing it! I've tried to break up the writing a bit more too, I think thats how I was asked too? Anyway, please enjoy guys!**

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The sight wasn't one John was expecting. The detective looked so different. John scans his eyes down Sherlocks form, taking in his appearance. The detectives hair was rumpled and slightly longer and wilder suggesting he hadn't had a hair cut in a while, also the way it hung limply around his pale face showed it was greasy, it looked as though Sherlock had been pulling his fingers through it and it just stayed there due to that fact. His face was much paler than the last time John had seen him and seemed thinner, giving him an almost haunted look which would be completely colorless if it wasn't for the dark circles which hung beneath his eyes, his cheekbones even more pronounced as the flesh around them was drained and clinging to them. His eyes themselves were red as though he hadn't slept in days, weeks even and the normally piercing way he would look at people was now replaced by a dull stare which, even so, would send a brave man running. As Johns gaze trails down his body his eyes widen involuntarily, horizontal, red marks are littered over Sherlocks forearms which are easily visible from the shirt Sherlock was wearing, seemingly for over a week due to the state of it,which had the sleeves rolled up messily over his elbows. Some were a raging red and others turning purple and scarring over to Sherlocks normal skin color, only a very faint lightening to the skin letting it be known that they were once there.

John swallows heavily, trying to take in everything he had seen in the last 5 seconds of silence the two men had been standing in. As he raises his eyes John finds himself flickering his gaze off to the side as to not meet Sherlocks eyes, Sherlock in return just stared at John as though he didnt believe he was actually there. After another few seconds pass silently John coughs and says in a minuscule voice, "H-Hi Sherlock" His voice shaking as much as his hands. Not that John could possibly notice how fast his heart beat is going at the moment because he can hear Sherlocks thudding through him strongly along with the bullets of emotion which are being shot at him. Remorse, pain, dread, fear? A flicker of confusion passes Johns features but he quickly hides it and shuffles the bag on his shoulder with a fidgeting hand, glancing up to Sherlock uneasily. Sherlock on the other hand seems to be panicking, his pulse had dramatically increased and his breathing had, even to a normal person, noticeably gotten faster and heavier.

Sherlock takes a minute or so to control his breathing and quickly pulls down his shirt sleeves as though hoping John hadn't seen anything, bringing a hand up and running it roughly through his overgrown hair. "John" Sherlock repeats in a stronger voice before though there seemed to be an underlying tremor to it. Sherlock felt like spewing out apologies and reasoning with John, anything, anything just to keep this sight. John. Home. 221B. Baker street. With me...Another chance. Sherlocks ranting thoughts are interrupted by Johns voice again, "Sherlock…I think we need to talk" He utters, meeting Sherlocks eyes for the first time since he had arrived, though only for less than a second. Sherlock hesitates for a moment before nodding, scared his voice would catch if he tried to speak.

Sherlock steps back, silently asking John inside but John doesn't move, instead just watches him with a cautious look, "Can…Can you go first please" He says in little more than a whisper, glancing up to Sherlock for only a second before looking away again. Sherlock nods, watching John for a moment and feeling the moisture increasing in his eyes at the comment, and how much distrust is in Johns eyes. John feels Sherlocks sadness increase and looks up just minimally which is enough to catch a glimpse of Sherlocks eyes, glistening with tears before he turns and makes his way up the stairs. John sighs nervously and hovers on the step of the front door for a few moments, glancing behind him as though debating running away, but he doesn't. After a few seconds he enters the house, closing the door behind him and nervously playing with the strap of his bag as he follows Sherlock up the stairs. So many things circulating his thoughts as he does so. Sherlock had marks all over his arms, not marks. Cuts. It was blatantly obvious, even if John wanted it not to be, that he had done it too himself. An involuntary shiver shoots up Johns spine and for the first time both a pang of guilt and hope is felt inside him. Its my fault he did this to himself, I left, even after he helped me. _Yeah only after he and his brother tortured you for something you cant change! _Maybe he did this because he missed me, he feels guilty from hurting me that much is obvious._Is it? _I felt it both back at the warehouse and when he first saw me. Johns thoughts argue with each other as he walks up the stairs, hardly noticing when they both get upstairs and into the living room.

John pauses at the entrance to the room, swallowing hard as his eyes trail the roomt. It looked like a bomb had went of in the room, worse than what it ever had been whilst he had been living there, much worse. The usual mess of books and newspapers and general work of Sherlocks was scattered all around the room, coating the floor in at least one layer of mess in practically all areas of the whole room, save for the paths which seemed to be carved through it. But in addition to the usual stuff John notices lots of empty packets of cigarettes, a few lighters, the skull was missing from its mantelpiece perch, there was a strange smell hanging over the room which John couldn't quite put his finger on. John cranes his head through to the kitchen, which could hardly be called that anymore. It looked as though it hadn't been used for…Well months. Experiments coated the table, broken glass was haphazardly left on the ground, the fridge looked as though it was broken as it lacked its usual light and the door was leaning open and mysterious stains covered both the roof and the counter tops.

John coughed lightly and looked down at his feet, "This place could do with a clean up" He joked weakly, his face flashing a fake smile for only a moment and a sarcastic laugh slipping past his lips. Though Sherlock seemed to take the comment rather seriously and after a moments hesitation nodded, "Sorry...I just- Its messy yes. I know, I've been meaning to-" Sherlock stutters out nervously, immediately starting to pick things up and throwing them into piles in an attempt to tidy with a rather panicked expression on his features. John frowns and holds his hand out after a moment or so, "Sherlock…Its fine- Its okay. I don't mind" He says hastily. Sherlock straightens up and lets out a shaky breath, "Yeah. Sorry, of course-" He opens his mouth as though to say something else but closes it in favor of dropping his head.

John waits a few moments for Sherlock to speak and when he doesn't, sighs and drops his bag by his feet, "I need answers Sherlock but first…" Johns voice sounds confident until the end of his sentence where it catches, "First promise me you wont hurt me" He rushes out in a nervous tone, quickly adverting his eyes from Sherlocks. Sherlock nods, only raising his head for a moment before looking away, "Hurt you?- Of course I wont john, I never woul-" Sherlocks words die in his throat. John nods and gathers some nerves from somewhere, "Shall we sit down?" He says strongly, Sherlock nods hastily and clears Johns old armchair giving it a fleeting look before returning to his old one. John gives a very small and quick smile and sits nervously down in his old armchair, noticing it smelt strongly of Sherlock and another scent he didn't recognize. "So, I need to know Sherlock. Why?"

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**Okayy guys there it is. Chapter 9. Just to let you know I'm going back through my chapters and correcting some minor mistakes in them. Grammar, spelling ect. So it may notify you of a change but its just minor (: Anyway guys! Please review! Let me know you're enjoying it or if there's something wrong or something. Anyway till next time...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay so here's chapter 10, Enjoy!**

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John sat down on the edge of the armchair nervously, fiddling his hands together on top of his lap and looking around the room just so to avoid looking at Sherlock, every time he does it feels as though he's just going to break down into tears, this wasn't what he was expecting when he came here. John flicks his eyes up to Sherlock. He looked and acted so different, so unlike himself. Even now John can see the slight shaking in his hands and the way his eyes looked around the room jerkily as though he was nervous about something, though unlike John he met Johns eyes when he spoke as though checking he was actually there. John after a few seconds takes in a shaky breath and looks up, "So, I need to know Sherlock. Why?" He asks in a strong enough voice, though nerves could still be heard behind it.

Sherlock pauses for a moment before looking up at John and nodding slightly, swallowing hard before starting, "Of course I-" Sherlock starts but pauses to think about how he was going to say this. "I'll tell you the everything I did, but before I start I-" Sherlock pauses slightly and looks down at his feet, "I apologise deeply for everything I did to you, the way I reacted, the way I dealt with…The news. Just what I…" Sherlock stops and swallows slightly, not looking up and for once not bothering about the tears which were threatening to break his defence. He knew John would never forgive him for what he did, or excuse it in any way but he owes the truth at the least. "I had no idea…You were, a vampire before….I saw" Sherlock starts rather shakily, his voice thick with emotion, "I was angry you didn't tell me, that's no excuse I know" He quickly added from Johns scoff and the obvious anger he could hear in it, "I-I didn't know what to do, I didn't…I was scared. I- you were going to b-bite me and I just." Sherlock pauses, collecting himself before continuing, as though he was reliving the event although he seemed more distressed about how he had reacted to it. John can feel himself developing anger as Sherlock continues.

"I didn't know what to do so I called Mycroft…I-I knew…His past with vampires was bad but I wasn't thinking. I swear John I didn't want this too happen to you. I didn't mean to cause it, please you have to- I just, please believe me on that fact" Sherlock continues in a more rushed tone, looking up at John for the first time since he started, his eyes glistening with tears before he quickly diverts his eyes back to the floor and collects himself again. "After…After I called Mycroft I left the flat. I just, I didn't know what to d- these _emotions_" He hisses out the word as though it was poisonous, "When I came back, Mycroft told me…He told me he had retained you and I knew-I knew he meant he…You and I didn't" Sherlocks voice breaks slightly but he coughs as though nothing happened and continued, "At first, Im not going to…I wont lie to you, at first I didn't react to his treating to you. You know, I came to see you and I. Did. Nothing" Sherlock hisses out in a whisper, easily containing the tears to behind his lids. It was blatantly obvious the anger came from how he had acted himself and nothing to do with John not telling him. "But then…He started…He started to hurt you…_Torture you. _I tried to stop him but…He" Sherlock stops but doesn't look up.

John is just staring at him, not knowing what to do with what he was hearing. John had thought for the last 5 months that Sherlock had called Mycroft_ because _he wanted to experiment on him with his brother. He had thought that Sherlock still hated him but the way Sherlock was re telling the events he sounded so pained, and Johns could feel the amount of guilt and distress radiating off of him. But no, there was nothing John could do to stop the growing anger bubbling up in him as Sherlock continued his story. Sherlock continues in little more than a whisper, John would have had trouble hearing him if he wasn't a vampire and therefore had amazing senses. "I told him I was going to let you go…I was, so angry" Sherlock managed most of the sentence in a strong enough voice before it breaks an a tear escapes his eyes, it is of course quickly wiped away. The anger in himself considerably shortening his sentances and words. "He said if I did. He would kill you. H-he promise if I let him..If I let him torture you,that he would let you go after" Sherlock states angrily, raising his head and looking up at John for only a moment, enough for him to see the anger burning behind the tears in his eyes but also the look he knew could only mean he thinks it was his fault.

Sherlock looks away and steels his jaw, continuing, "Once he operated on you I knew I needed to get you out. We argued, and he said…He said he meant to kill you even though he prom-" Sherlock voice breaks again and it seemingly gets too much to explain whilst sitting in one place and he gets up, pacing through the mess in the room and running fingers none to gently through his greasy hair, "He was going to kill you so I acted whilst he was out and I let you go" Sherlock stops abruptly and stops in his pacing, bowing his head and tilting it to the floor, closing his eyes and breathing heavily. "I need you to know I am sorry for what I did to you. Yo-" Sherlock pauses and angrily wipes his eyes as though blaming them for crying, "You are still the best friend I ever had, I-I still love y-" Sherlock is cut off by John who was trying to stay seated whilst anger grew steadily in him now to the point he couldn't contain it anymore.

At the statement John jumped off of his seat and grabbed the collar of Sherlocks shirt, twisting his fist tightly in the loose material and holding Sherlock close to himself with the strength he had inherited from his vampire side, "Your _best friend? _You _love me?" _John spits in little more than a whisper though his tone is far more dangerous than Sherlock had ever heard it before, resembling the one he had used back when he had been fist twisted in Sherlock shirt pressing so hard against Sherlocks chest it was sure to leave a bruise. Sherlock doesn't reply, just looking up at John with less than surprised eyes, as though he had been expecting this, as though he _deserved it_. None the less a tear slips from his eye and rolls down his cheek. Johns jaw sets hard and in the flash of an eye he throws Sherlock down on the floor, with a heart shuddering crack where the back of his head comes into contact with the hard fireplace.

Johns eyes widen as Sherlock groans and rolls over, pressing a hand to the back of his head and seeing it return bloody. The anger draining away from him as he sees Sherlocks cheeks wet with tears and the way his hands were shaking. John kneels next to the brunette and as he does Sherlock closes his eyes as though expecting the impact of a fist or shoe. John instead softly speaks "Im sorry Sherlock" He says in a low voice. Sherlock replies in a way John had never seen him act before, in a way John didn't even think Sherlock was capable of acting, even though he knew him better than anyone else on the planet did. Sherlock, the former consulting detective, the arrogant know it all, the high functioning sociopath looks up at John and lets tears fall from his eyes whilst shaking very slightly, trying to contain them, "I-Its ok. I-I kn-ow I deserve t-his" He stutters out, the amount of emotion in Sherlocks eyes more than John had ever seen or felt. John collapses into a sit next to him and lets out a shaky breath, "It was Mycroft, not you?" He asks in a small voice, staring at the ground. Sherlock nods wordlessly, still shaking with silent tears. Both were silent for a long time, tears also staining Johns cheeks, before Sherlock uttered the words, "I miss you...So much" In an almost silent voice.

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**Hope you liked it! The ending of this chapter will of course be expanded on in chapter 12. The next Chapter is just some of Sherlocks history so you guys can understand better what happened in the months John was gone to Sherlock. Anyhow please review! That would be lovely, plus my notifications motivate me to write more quickly.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay so in this chapter I've just done a little of Sherlocks history with drugs and what happened whilst John was gone. I kept it brief so its basically just to fill you in a little, even though this chapters a little longer than any of my other ones. Anyhoo Enjoy!**

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"Holmes, you're back…Come in" The dealer greeted him in a silky and well-practiced voice, stepping back and silently inviting Sherlock inside. Sherlock nods but doesn't smile and enters the shabby house immediately being hit by the would-be overpowering smell of drugs and the darkened room. Sherlock throws his coat aside, not bothering where it landed and followed the dealer into the house, the rooms slowly growing more crowded. His nerves growing the further he is led into the gloomy room, and the impending feeling of being swallowed back into the cycle of an addict weighing on him. Sherlock received more than a few stares for the main reasons of, he was 'new' and his looks. Once Sherlock took his bulky coat and scarf off it left him in a tight shirt which revealed his slim figure, that mixed with his dark curls and pronounced facial features made him desirable in more ways than money to this crowd. The room they ended in had about 15 people dotted around, most of them high and lounging on the couches or floor. Both a mix of men and woman, most around Sherlocks age though there were a few younger.

_One may wonder how someone like Sherlock Holmes ever became known to this group of junkies and dealers. Years back, before Sherlock started taking cases from Scotland Yard, Sherlock had the problem of thinking. No matter what Sherlock did his mind would think non-stop, constantly thoughts would be racing through his mind about everything he saw around him. When a normal man or woman would see such a thing as a business man Sherlock would see a rapidly growing list of information about said man. There was no way he could stop it, no people around him who really cared, no more school which combined with cigarettes use to keep him at least mildly occupied and no way to occupy his raging mind so he turned to drugs. It wasn't hard for Sherlock to slip into the routine, but almost impossible to get out. It went on for years, Sherlock would return to the same dealer, meet the same junkies, spend all his money on drugs. It didn't matter to him what kind, it started off with smoking weed, that slowed his mind and actions down, relaxing him enough so he could rest but then he started to be introduced to cocaine and this of course had the completely different effect on him, it served to make him more hyper and unable to sit still but even though it took his mind off of the constant stream of thoughts which couldn't be paused in any other way. _

_After years of smoking, snorting and injection himself to nearly death Sherlock found himself in an alleyway in London, high as a kite and lying on the snow damp ground, alone. That was when he met Lestrade. Detective Inspector Lestrade. Lestrade was just walking home after the night shift at the Yard. It had been, to put it bluntly, a shit night; the case had been on-going for almost 2 weeks now, serial killer. _

_The night was chilly and Lestrade had his coat done up tightly and pulled gloves snugly over his hands to protect them from the bite of the wintery, London air. But something on that cold, winters night caught the Inspectors attention. A mumbling coming from an alleyway by him on his walk home soon turned into a young man out of his head with drugs who had somehow found himself in an alleyway._

_ Lestrade sighs irritably and slips into the alley, crouching down by the man who seemed not to have noticed him yet. Sherlock had his eyes closed and was waving his hand through the air in a floating motion as though sculpting something through the air whilst mumbling something unrecognizable. Lestrade placed a hand on the mans shoulder and Sherlocks eyes snapped open and for a moment it looked as though he was going to attack him but after a few second a smile breaks onto the Brunettes face and he looks over Lestrade, "What're you doing" Sherlock slurs in a highly amused tone. Sherlocks pupils which were blown wide and his drunk behavior made it blatantly obvious he was high. _

_Lestrade rolls his eyes and puts an arm around the man lifting him to his feet, "Okay home time I think" He sighs to Sherlock, who at this point is rather confused as to why he was being lifted by this well dressed man though the smile on his face meant he was more amused by the fact. Once he had made sure Sherlock could actually stand Lestrade takes his arm back and looks over the young man. _

_Really he should charge him for taking illegal drugs and call the police so he could spend a night in the cells but there was two reasons Lestrade wasn't going to do that. 1. He wanted to get home in the next hour and that would happen because he would have to explain everything and leave a statement ect. and 2. Lestrade always took pity on young guys who had gotten caught up in drugs and this young man was lying in an alleyway in the freezing cold, wearing only a shirt and trousers, so wasted on drugs that he probably doesn't even know whats happening._

_ "Do you know where you live?" Lestrade asks in a tired tone to Sherlock, who is leaning against the wall whilst blinking rapidly, "2…2-1B Baking street" Sherlock says after a very thoughtful and strained look takes over his features. Lestrade sighs and taps his foot. Baker street? It wasnt that far from where they were. It took about 30 minutes for Lestrade to practically drag Sherlock back to his flat, due to the fact that the brunette seemed adamant to stop every few moments to admire or gape at something such as a street light. So half and hour later Lestrade finds himself in the living room of 221B after dumping Sherlock on the sofa which he is now undignifiedly sprawled out on. Lestrade was about to speak again when Sherlock interrupted him._

_"You should go home inspector, I know your wife has been getting increasingly angry with you for staying late at work, even though that is probably because of the fact you have a serial killer at the moment, none the less your wife has been getting awful friendly with her gym instructor, you might want to speak to her about that" Sherlock says whilst trying to keep his eyes open apparently. Lestrade stops in his tracks of looking for and seizing as much illegal drugs from the flat as possible, "What?" He asks in an amazed tone. _

_Sherlock looks up to him lazily, "I know by the way your hand keeps twitching that you're anxious about something, the way you are dressed and the way you were walking and keep grumbling about having to take me home suggests you're on your way home from work. Where do you work? Scotland Yard. Easy. I know by the way you're dressed and also this" Sherlock holds up his police badge, which he had pickpocketed from him, before dropping it on the floor without a second glance._

_ "So you're a detective inspector who is coming home late from work and anxious about doing so. Why? Well you will have no problem with working late, as you enjoy your job so if its not you who has the problem who? You're married so your wife, obvious. The reason you're late home is, of course, because of the serial killer loose at the moment. Which may I say is completely obvious to anyone who isn't a complete idiot." Sherlock pauses and gives him a knowing look which is somewhat ruined by the annoyance in Sherlocks eyes._

_He continues, "I know your marriage must be rocky because your wedding ring, you're wearing it, yes but the lack of tightness shows you have taken it off a lot, either that or you play with it a lot on your finger, twist it around and such meaning you think about your marriage more than the usual spouse. This tells me you're worried about some aspect of it. It could just be the fact the ring was always a little big for you but that's unlikely because the outside is clean so it shows you keep it clean, meaning you would have replaced a ring which was to big as you look after this one, therefore deem it very important. sentiment" Sherlock rolls his eyes disapprovingly._

_"So, you also take your ring off, Why? You're not cheating, no. So its most probably because you and your wife are arguing, or at least have been recently. Now the gym instructor, I know she's cheating on you because of the way you're dressed, rushed, that says you had rushed out this morning after maybe sleeping in? No, you look as though the sleep you had was ample and not as though you had woken up and left the house in less than 30 minutes, so you had an argument, with your wife. Even though you've had enough sleep there are still dark circles under your eyes caused by stress. Not your job even though it is stressful. No. You enjoy it so then your wife it is, as you have no kids. She's mad at you, she says its because you've been choosing work over her but the reason is in fact because she is guilty. why? Because she's cheating. With the gym instructor, simple." Sherlock ends and looks back up to the ceiling in a meaningless gaze as though nothing had happened. _

_"That…That was amazing" Lestrade utters, going on to ask about how he knows everything he hadn't yet that meeting between the detective inspector and the junkie on that cold winters night in London a lot changed for both involved. Lestrade decided to make another visit to Sherlocks flat and show him the case he and his team were working on at that moment, with the serial killer. Sherlock of course solved it with his usual flare and snarky comments. _

_The months after that Lestrade made more and more visits to the flat and eventually presented Sherlock with a deal where by if he gets clean he would provide him with cases to keep his mind occupied. Sherlock agreed and went through a very messy and painful stage of withdrawal. From that day on Sherlock never went long enough without a case that he would give into the temptation of a fix, cases and cigarettes of course. That was until he met John. John Hamish Watson, the ex-army doctor who little did he know was going to become the single most important person in his life._

The dealer guides Sherlock to an empty space on one of the worn-out couches and they both take a seat, the lazy chatter and content noises returning to the room as though nothing had ever happened, it was scary how quickly and easily Sherlock blended into the room and its occupants. The dealer flashes Sherlock a toothy grin and chuckles under his breath, "I never thought I'd be seeing you again Mr Holmes" He says in a sleazy voice.

Sherlock looks up at him edgily and nods, not saying anything. The dealer just laughs again and leans back in his seat, putting one arm behind him and around the back of the sofa and spreading his legs out across the seat in a possessive nature, "So what can I do you for Holmes" He asks, a smirk still gracing his untrustworthy and over-aged features. Sherlock swallows hard and looks away from the man, his mind racing, knowing if he does this its going t be like it was all those years ago, falling into the same dark hole which is almost impossible to climb out of. After only a few seconds Sherlock looks back, "I need to forget" He utters simply. The dealer laughs, "Oh I know the perfect thing" He chuckles.

It was far too easy for Sherlock to fall straight back into the same routine he had years ago, get high off as much drugs as you can buy, do things you would never do if you were thinking straight (For Sherlock that being sociability and sex) then stumble home and repeat daily (Well nightly). Though one hidden savior soon stopped Sherlocks actions, he ran out of money and with no big brother dishing it out without even a second glance as to what it might be for and no other way to get due to his life being in tatters Sherlock could no longer afford the drugs, after only a month or so. So Sherlock was forced into withdrawal, alone. That's when the self harming started. It was too much to deal with alone and with his only true friend in the world gone and hating him in the process and not even Mycroft to support him this time he was well and truthfully alone. Lestrade of course extended a hand to him but Sherlock was too bitter to accept his help. You could easily argue what replaced the drugs was far worse, Sherlock was no longer the man he was before,and there was only one thing, one person who would ever change that.

Thats when John showed up on his doorstep.

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**Right so next chapter we're back to Sherlock and John present day. Please review! Pleeeeeeeeeaaase?**


	12. Chapter 12

**So here's chapter 12 guys I really hope you're enjoying the story so far. Ive got a couple reviews and it seems so but anyhow please read and enjoy!**

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Sherlock had curled up his knees as far as his body would let him and buried his face in them, hiding from the pain of the world and not even bothering to try and stop the blood which trickled slowly down his neck from the cut on the back of his head. Only one thing mattered to him, the man sitting next to him. Before Sherlock can stop himself he utters the words "I miss you…So much" In a tiny voice to John, not raising his head from his knees.

At the words he barely hears leaving Sherlocks lips John slowly raises his head, looking at the broken man beside him, a wave of guilt swamping him when he sees the slowly growing patch of blood on the back of Sherlocks head. His senses had sharpened slightly at the appearance of blood but he was in no way tempted to drink it. Whilst in the army John had got by seeing blood, being surrounded by and even kneeling in pools of blood and he never even gave drinking it a second thought.

John doesn't reply to Sherlocks statement and instead picks himself up off the carpet, wiping his eyes roughly in the process, ridding them of falling tears and leaving his eyes and lashes damp before continuing on through to the bathroom, silently. In which time Sherlock snaps his head up off his knees, the look on his face changing from pain to dread as John gets up and starts walking away from him and then finally full out relief as he sees John returning from the bathroom, clasping a first aid kit. John almost pauses and stares at the sight which meets him when he returns from the bathroom, Sherlock Holmes, sitting on the ground looking up to him with utter relief through red and tear filled eyes, his hair sticking up from where he had been tugging his fingers through it and his shirt askew from John grabbing him. Another shock of guilt hits John and he kneels next to Sherlock.

"I need to fix your cut" John says softly, holding out a hand to make sure Sherlock was alright with it, Sherlock simply nodded, still keeping eye contact with John long after he had moved his gaze. John reaches his hands out and places his fingers softly on Sherlocks temples, tilting the brunettes head forward so he could access the cut. Sherlock lets John tilt forward his head and closes his eyes lightly, after so many months away from John even just being this close to him relaxed Sherlock.

John zips open the kit and takes out an alcohol pad, raising his free hand to the cut on the back of Sherlocks head and gently cleaning it. Sherlock doesn't even flinch as the disinfectant comes into contact with his cut and instead stays staring at the floor as though perplexed by something there. But the truth was right now, what was happening, John being right there, it was hurting worse than it did before John reappeared. Having him so close again but being unable to touch him, having to refrain from drawing him into his arms and never letting go made a constricting weight clamp in Sherlocks chest.

John continued cleaning the cut, wiping away the blood which had escaped it in the process and taking a quick look. "Its not deep, you wont need any stitches" John informs Sherlock quietly, not bothering to tidy away the first aid kit and instead just setting it aside and staying in his position, kneeled next to Sherlock. Sherlock nods and looks up to John, opening his mouth as though to say something but quickly closing it again and looking back at the ground.

The pair were silent for a long time before John spoke, his voice quiet and trembling slightly, "I forgive you" He whispers almost silently, staring at the ground intently. John had been going over Sherlocks story in his mind for the last few minutes, the way he reacted to Johns secret was understandable. It hurt yes, god it hurt, but Sherlock had done the only thing he knew how in such a situation and called his brother, blocked his emotions because he was hurt John didn't 'trust' him enough to tell him. John knew him well enough to know that was his way of dealing with emotional hurt, deny any feelings. Of course, at first Sherlock had let Mycroft throw him in a cage with injuries but it was soon after Sherlock released him and, if what Sherlocks saying is to be believed, it would have been even earlier if it wasn't for Mycrofts threat. That of course was also protecting John,or so Sherlock thought at the time, as Mycroft had threatened to kill him. So yes, John was forgiving Sherlock but definitely not forgetting the events which had occured.

Sherlock snaps his head up at Johns barely hearable words an blinks a few times at the blonde, tears still in his own grey eyes, "W-What?" Sherlock asks so silently that John had to read his lips, "I forgive you for what you did Sherlock" John repeats in a stronger voice. Sherlock stares at John for a few moments before his defense breaks and tears start to swell in his eyes, though this time they are from both pure, blissful relief and guilt. After a few seconds hesitation he nervously wraps his arms around Johns waist, expecting to be pushed off a second later and almost gasping with surprise as he felt arms pull him closer as he buried his face into Johns chest.

John wasn't an idiot. For any other man John would never ever even consider forgiving them for what he had been made to go through, no matter what the excuse, but this wasn't just any other man. This was Sherlock and John, quite frankly, wasn't even sure he could call him that anymore. Sherlock was not the man John used to know and he quite obviously hadn't been coping since John had left and why? Because of guilt and heart break that much was obvious. He had been taking drugs again, John could see from his appearance and of course the self harm. The flat was lacking its usual case files lying everywhere so he hadn't been taking cases either. Sherlock Holmes was not the man he used to be. So when John felt the detectives shaking arms hesitantly wrap around his waist he replied in the only way he ever would and returned the gesture, feeling months of grief lifting away whilst being in Sherlocks arms.

Because no matter what Sherlock had done to John, John would always forgive him because he needs Sherlock and Sherlock needs him.

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**READ ME!**

**Okay so guys I'm wondering if you want me to keep writing? I could continue this story and Sherlock and Johns relationship or this could be a nice little ending. So please let me know! If at least a few people want me to continue I will do so and if not I'll just write a little epilogue for those of you who still want it nicely finished. Also back to school tommorow *cries* so updates will be further apart if I do continue. Right, so please let me know and also review! **


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys! So Im going to carry on this story some more chapters. I think I'll do a couple chapters on building their relationships and then just some drabble. Thanks for sticking with this story! And please enjoy reading!**

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The pair hold each other tightly for what seems like hours, both still believing they had fallen into one of there improbable dreams. Sherlock had his face buried in Johns chest and John in Sherlocks hair, breathing in his scent and feeling the hold of reassurance and safety from the familiar smell. John could easily smell the cigarette smoke, uncertainty and great amounts of disbelief and comfort crowding over Sherlocks underlying and familiar scent but it wasn't hard for him to look past them. The steady beating of Sherlocks heart beat relaxes John enough to close his eyes into the hug.

The pair sit in silence, on the carpeted ground of 221B until, eventually John breaks the embrace, pulling his arms back off of Sherlocks slender waist softly and breathing in his strong scent once more before drawing back completely. Sherlock raises his head slowly from the position it had been rested against Johns jumpered chest in and looks up and into Johns blue eyes, which had, of course, no trace of violet or any other minor signs of what he really is in them. Both men have tears glistening in their eyes but neither seems able to break the eye contact to bother about them. John reaches out a hand towards Sherlocks and holds the brunettes firmly in his.

"Sherlock I…." John starts quietly, flickering his eyes away for a second before back to Sherlocks apprehensive eyes, "I- and don't think you have to or anything…I know…I know what I am is" John trails off, sounding more unsure with the more words he said, Sherlock didn't interrupt him as though his ability to speak had been snatched away. John coughed discreetly and carried on, though he now looked down at their hands instead of at Sherlock, "I was wondering if, erm…Maybe if you want to possibly- If you would have, erm consider maybe a…relationship with me again" John stuttered out, correcting himself in nearly every sentence and letting his eyes dance across the room to anywhere but Sherlock.

Sherlocks thumb, which had been rubbing soft circles into Johns palm stops as John finishes his question and he stares at John, waiting for him to shout 'just joking' and then run away out of his life all over again. But after a few seconds nothing happens but silence and Sherlock eventually coughs slightly, clearing the lump in his throat, "John I…" He starts in a melancholy tone, at which point John snatches back his hand, rubbing it in his other and starts blabbering, "No its fine. I didn't- Its only if you want. I know…I should've known you wouldn't want- Cause im a vampire but I just thought maybe…No its fin-" John rushes out, diverting his eyes from Sherlock and just moving to get up before Sherlock puts a hand on his forearm to stop him.

"I didn't mean that John, I meant you…You _want_ a relationship with me…After what I did to you" Sherlock says strongly at first looking into Johns eyes, but as the sentence continues his voice trails away and his eyes drop to the floor along with his hand. John pauses from getting up and slowly sits back on his heels, nodding slightly. "I don't hold a grudge against you for it, I didn't…I didn't know how people would react to…Me" John starts, keeping his eyes on the ground as Sherlocks raise, "No-one else…Knows, not even my family" He admits quietly, rubbing his arm lightly. A flicker of happiness passes Sherlocks face for the first time since John had returned, though it quickly disappeared as John continued his sentance.

"I would be honoured if you took me back John" Sherlock says quietly, looking up at John for approval, his hands automatically crossing over his stomach. Johns eyes find themselves looking into Sherlocks again and a tiny smile quirking at his lips, he nods slightly in answer and after a few seconds of watching Sherlock looks away into what was left of the kitchen, "Tea?" He questions hesitantly. Sherlock nods numbly and a smile flickers across his features even though one doesn't grace his lips, "love some" he replies blithely.

John nods and gives a small smile to Sherlock, raising from his knees and walking through into kitchen, carefully avoiding the piles of danger filled mess spread across all the rooms and managing to get to the kettle, which looked as though it hadn't been used in weeks. John frowns and picks it up, inspecting it for any chemicals, well pretending to. He was in the habit of faking being a human now, when all he really needed to do was smell the kettle to know whether it was safe he infact opened it up and pretended to inspect the insides. Once satisfied there was nothing poisonous left in the kettle John fills it and plugs it in, quickly flicking the switch and starting to prepare two mugs.

Sherlock watches John leave the living room, wiping his eyes as soon as his back was turned and trying to compose himself even though the smile trying to force onto his lips isn't getting the message. He watches John go to the kettle and a thought occurs to him as John simply passes the kettle by his nose, obviously checking for chemicals before something seems to correct him and he brings the kettle back up checking it properlly. John isn't human, he's a vampire which means he must have some kind of _powers._ Sherlock frowns at the word but lets it settle in the back of his mind as John returns with two cups of tea. He picks himself off the ground and kicks a few things aside to sit down on his old armchair.

John hands Sherlock his tea but instead of returning to the armchair he once called his, sits down on the floor next to Sherlock and plays with the handle of his mug, waiting for Sherlock to speak. Sherlock also slithers of his chair and onto the floor next to John, "When did it happen?" Sherlock asks softly, he remembers John saying 'I wasn't born this way'. John flickers his eyes up to Sherlock and after a moments hesitation answers, "The army, a vampire called Casper was my maker" John replies in monotone, to hide the emotion which otherwise would have been laced into his voice.

Sherlock watches John as he continues, almost frowning at the slight fondness and sadness which entered Johns tone when he mentioned 'Casper'. "I was just on my way back from the healing tent, there had been an explosion, some of our men were injured, it was dark and already the small hours of the night" John coughs slightly and his eyes focus on his cup of tea and away from Sherlock. "I was attacked in a stretch of forest and when he bit me…Well I thought I would just die but instead…Instead I got this 'gift' as Casper always said" Sherlock frowned at how fondly Johns voice turned whenever 'Casper' was mentioned. "Someone found me and took me to be healed but, it was never the same again" John continues sadly. Sherlock eyes both soften and harden as John speaks. Softening in sorrow for Johns pain and hardening in guilt and anger at himself.

"They passed it off for an animal attack but…Well a few days later I started to change and that's when I met Casper again. He taught me how to deal with what I am now" John finishes on a stronger note and nods to himself, glancing up at Sherlock to catch his expression and letting himself feel relived as the only thing he could see or feel was guilt and empathy. Sherlock, who had already ditched his tea let one of his hands reach out slightly to Johns just in case he wanted to hold it. John lifts his eyes to the hand being held out for him and returns the gesture, Sherlock entwining their fingers soon after.

Sherlock doesn't meet Johns eyes now, keeping them fixed on their hands. "Being a vampire isn't that different from being a human" John says in a slightly strained voice, "I do, of course, have to…Drink blood and when I go to long without it I get jittery then eventually the sensation is too much to ignore and I vamp out" John flickers his eyes up as he knows Sherlock knows what this means as he had witnessed it when John had been captured. "In times such as these even smelling blood can change my eye colour and make my fangs protrude, they also turn violet when I'm very frightened, because apparently my stupid vampire side thinks it's threatening and that I need to protect myself, or when I'm drinking blood" John starts to explain, feeling more and more disgusted with himself as he carries on.

"I have heightened senses, my hearing and sight are far beyond the capability of a human and I can smell a hell of a lot, including emotions" John adds, his eyes glancing up to Sherlocks for less than a second before returning to their fixed point on the carpet. "I can also hear heart beats, both human and animals and see in the dark" John says, nodding to himself slightly.

"But as I said most things are the same, I still need sleep and Im not nocturnal, I still need to eat human food and I can go out in the sunlight, although it does tingle slightly if I stay out in it for a few hours" John says, quashing that superstitious belief. "Oh and I can move with inhuman speed and if need be, hide easily from people" John finishes up, thinking if there was anything else he had forgotten, Sherlock needed to know everything if the relationship they were going to attempt was even going to have a chance of working out.

Sherlock raises his eyes once John finishes and try though he may cant stop a small, childish smile curling up the corners of his lips, "That's brilliant" he says quietly, although to himself, the Sherlock John knows seemingly reappearing more and more with each passing minute. John sighs and sits back, "Not so" He murmurs, not feeling offended at all by Sherlocks reaction as it was much better than what he had expected and feeling much more comfortable in Sherlocks presence than when he first entered the flat. The warmth of Sherlocks hand comforting his cold body.

Sherlock looks up just as John does and smiles appear on both of their faces, both men becoming more of them old selves the longer they were in each others presence. John gives a small huff of a laugh and lets his fingers trail to Sherlocks wrists, his eyes pausing on his shirt covered forearm, covering what lay underneath, "What happened" He asks softly.

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**Hope you enjoyed that chapter! If anyone has any requests of any scenes you want me to write about please let me know so I can continue writing as I'll probably start to run out of idea :s. Also updates will probably be weekly now because Im back at school! Please review and thank you!**


	14. Chapter 14

**TaaDaa. Chapter 14! I kept most of this quite brief because it could be a sensitive subject to some people but I hope you enjoy! **

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John let his eyes trail up from his and Sherlocks entwined hands to Sherlocks forearm which was hastily covered with his shirt sleeve earlier on in the night. John looks up to Sherlock who is now watching their hands and speaks softly, "What happened?" letting his index finger run lightly over one of the scars. As soon as Johns finger comes into contact with Sherlocks cut Sherlock yanks back his arm and hand, pulling down the sleeves to his wrists and holding his arms against his chest.

John can feel Sherlock is ashamed and afraid, he looks up to Sherlocks eyes. Sherlock, in return, looking anywhere but at Johns. He reaches out a hand and places it softly on Sherlocks cheek which causes Sherlock to look up at him. "Its okay Sherlock, you don't need to be afraid" He says gently, in almost a whisper. Sherlock looks up in confusion which quickly fades away when he remembers John could smell it off of him.

"I-" Sherlock starts before swallowing and releasing his arms from the grip against his chest, his head dropping again and his eyes watching the floor. "I started taking drugs again, but I ran out of money" Sherlock starts in little more than a whisper, his voice shaky and sounding nothing like what Sherlocks ever had before, something in the way he spoke seemed empty and the monotone his voice has slipped into did nothing to comfort John. Sherlock kept his sleeves tightly down over his wrists and doesn't continue for a few long moments, so long John thinks that's all he was going to say.

But he does eventually continue, "When I ran out of money the dealer, of course, stopped supplying and with no Mycroft to give me more I was forced into withdrawal again" Nothing in the way Sherlock spoke sounded sorry for himself, it simply stated facts but delved no deeper into said facts. "It was worse than last time, Mycroft wasn't there and I refused to let Lestrade help me…Then I couldn't forget anymore, so I turned to the only thing I had left" Sherlock whispers the last sentence so quiet not even John could hear him and instead lip reads his words.

Sherlock keeps his head down low and staring at the ground, his overgrown hair falling over his face and shielding him from John so he could no longer see his face. John reaches out a hand slowly and takes Sherlocks in it softly, comfortingly, everything and all John had ever been to Sherlock. Another pang of guilt. "It's okay now, if you want me…Im here for you" John whispers, edging a little closer to Sherlock but staying sitting down. Sherlock doesn't look up at John as he says these words and something camps down in his chest.

Sherlock slowly shakes his head, "No John. No!" He exclaims, looking up at John with angry eyes, John knew this was anger for himself and not for John. Sherlock snaps his head away and goes to pull his hand away from John, looking as though he was about to leave, but John instead entwines their fingers, holding Sherlocks hand tightly and willing him to look up at him again. "Sherlock" John says in a strong enough voice for Sherlock to look up at him. John sighs and looks into Sherlocks eyes meaningfully, "I want this to work between us, but if it is going to we both need to forgive the other for what we have done…And you need to forgive yourself." John says in a slow, careful voice.

Sherlocks stares at John for a lagged few moments before reacting, letting the words rush over him before his head starts nodding, quickly followed by his mind agreeing. "Yes" Sherlock says in a stronger voice than what he had used the whole time John.

John, over time, would forgive Sherlock fully, for now the fact he was willing to be anywhere near him and actually try a relationship again was enough to go on. So John would forgive, yes, but he would never forget. Never. There was of course one thing, or rather, one person John was more than anxious about meeting again. Mycroft.

John was snapped out of the slight daze he had went into whilst thinking by Sherlocks quiet call, snapping his head around rather too quickly and blinking at Sherlock before a small smile falls onto his face, "Sorry…Im still a little…Edgy" He replies to the startled look on Sherlocks face. Sherlock nods understandingly and looks around the room, a frown flickering across his features as though he had just noticed how messy it has been for the last few months.

Sherlock picks himself up off of the floor, subconsciously squeezing Johns hand before letting go and carrying on as though he hadn't noticed this sign of affection. The first sign, no matter how small, the two men could actually move on from this. He starts to pick up and relocate some things which were strewn across the floor, trying to tidy up as John stood, intending on going to his old room but Sherlock speaks before he can, "Oh erm..I was.." Sherlock looks aside, it was hard to tell if he was embarrassed or not. "I have been sleeping in there…" He finishes. A slight smile graces Johns lips.

Two weeks later

It had been two weeks since John appeared on 221B's doorstep after 5 months. From the outside it may seem like nothing has happened in these weeks, apart from possibly some cleaning and reorganising of the flat, but the truth is that so much had changed it seemed impossible, well at least highly improbable. The difference between what Sherlock had been for the last 5 months and what Sherlock had changed back too since John had returned was massive.

Sherlock and Johns relationship still wasn't definite, they had hugged, yes, but they hadn't kissed, they still slept in separate beds and neither of them talked as much as they should even though John could feel, almost anticipation? In Sherlock whenever they were near but not speaking. But even though Sherlock and John could hardly be called a couple both men had dramatically changed as a side effect of the other being close again.

Sherlock had changed more into his old self, starting to snap snarky comments at the Tv, deducing people in the street again and even starting new experiments and of course, actually cleaning himself up and getting a haircut. John on the other hand was visibly more happy at 221B, though every time the door opened downstairs he would freeze and wait to identify the footsteps before carrying on with what he was doing. Sherlock had, luckily, already went through withdrawal and John knew that Sherlock had stopped self-harming since he returned and to be honest John secretly felt touched by that. Because the simple fact was: Sherlock cannot live without him.

The months John had spent away were also some of the worse he had ever had, even though his physical injuries healed his mental ones just would not, months were spent for him trying to ignore that pin dropping at the other side of the building or the mouse which had found its way into the wall. It was after about 3 months that his senses finally started calming down and returning to their old state, though John was still jumpy and often his senses perked up quickly.

Both Sherlock and John were in the kitchen, Sherlock glued to a microscope on the table and John frowning at the contents of his frying pan which was burning on top of the hob. Sherlock let out a frustrated growl as his results showed negative and looks up, suddenly aware of the bitter smell of burning. He let his eyes trail over the kitchen and settle on John, his John. Sherlock lets a smirk quirk up the corners of his lips and takes the few steps over to him, looking down at the burnt contents of the pan with a smirk.

John looks up as Sherlock comes over and his frown quickly slips away into a well-humoured laugh, "Shut up" John says with a small laugh. Sherlock shakes his head, "No, no John its really…It Looks lovely" Sherlock says, amusement clear in his tone. John smirks and brings the spoon up, smudging a blob of sauce on the end of Sherlocks nose, luckily the spoon had been out of the sauce for long enough it was cool. Sherlock lets out a slightly surprised noise which quickly dissolved into a chuckle and brings the back of his hand up, wiping the smudge on his nose but instead of ridding himself of it he just manages to smear it over his cheek too, much to the amusement of John.

Sherlock attempts a frown at him but it turns into a laugh. John smirks and brings a hand up to Sherlocks cheek, "Oh! Sherlock you seem to have a little something on your cheek..." He sniggers, letting his hand continue round the back of Sherlocks neck. Sherlock smirks and pretends to put an arm around Johns waist but instead reaches for the spoon behind him, quickly picking it up and bringing it up to Johns face, leaving a smear of sauce over the blondes cheek.

John giggles along with Sherlock as he throws the spoon back onto the counter behind John and wraps both his arms around Johns waist. John only hesitates for a moment before closing the small space which separated their lips and capturing Sherlocks soft lips in his own. Both men smile into the kiss and the only thing which breaks them apart was the burning smell increasing to actual flames as the sauce dried up in the frying pan. John murmurs a soft laugh against Sherlocks lips and pulls away to deal with the frying pan.

"You know…" John starts whilst throwing the pan into the sink, "I think the sauce tasted better before" He says, swiping his finger over the old spoon and then licking it, smirking up at Sherlock.

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**Finally I have over 20,000 words! And finally Sherlock and John are on the road to recovering from whats happened. This is the end of this story but do you guys want a sequel? In it I would probably just write some relationship drabble, maybe bring back Mycroft? I just want to break that part away from this story because of the context of this one. Anyway this is the end! Thank you all so much for reading and leaving reviews and I'm hopefully going to be writing some more fanfics. So thank you! **


	15. Authors note

**Hello! Just leaving a quick note to tell you that I'm going to do a little sequel to Johns Secret called "Keeping the secret" **

**It will include an encounter with Mycroft again and also a few chapters on hopefully cute drabble about Sherlock and Johns relationship now that Sherlock knows what John is! **

**So please go and read it once its up! It should be posted in about a week so yeah...Go check it out! Thanks guys! Xx**


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